The Prodigal Son
by Sue Bridehead
Summary: Percy Weasley is in over his head. He has been tasked with bringing his only sister to Malfoy Manor so she can become Mrs. Draco Malfoy – a plan she knows nothing about. Can he turn on his own sister?


Author's Notes: This was written for the D/G Fic Exchange at LiveJournal. This was for fayetonic, who requested a fic with an angsty tone that mentioned the diary and a Hand of Glory and with no HBP spoilers.

Thanks/Disclaimer: Thank you, Fyrechild and Nastasia for beta-reading it, and to JKR for allowing us the use of her characters and their world.

_**"The Prodigal Son"**_

An idiot – that's what he was. A brilliant idiot.

Percy Weasley felt like kicking himself in the arse. Had he ever done anything so foolish in all his life? The former Head Boy of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was completely torn in two. Five years ago, he would never have seen himself where he stood today: at the edge of a precipice – no, already _over_ the edge, falling into the abyss.

His heart sunk as the hellish, gruesome mark burned the skin of his left forearm. It emitted a pungent smell. He tried to cast an odor removing spell, but the scent lingered and penetrated his nostrils. Nothing would remove the stench completely. Lucius Malfoy had told him the odor could take up to a month to wear off, and that for now, he should just lay low.

Although it was only late August, the midnight air around him seemed misty and chilly. The further he walked from town, the darker and more foreboding the night became, until the only light was the twinkling of distant stars. Once he was well away from the sleepy homes and shabby storefronts, he looked around, withdrew the Hand of Glory from his rucksack, and lit its candle. The withered fingers grasped the candle firmly. Wrapping his hand around the grotesque object, Percy exhaled shakily and walked along the familiar path that led to The Burrow.

When the outline of his family's home was in sight, he cleared his throat nervously. It seemed to arrive much faster than it had when he was a child. He adjusted the left sleeve of his robes, wincing in pain as he did so. He whispered the password; thankfully, Molly hadn't changed it yet. Maybe she still held out hope that her prodigal son would return home before long.

Percy cast a silencing charm and cautiously entered the home. Once he had

made it to the haphazard staircase, he reluctantly began climbing – his wiry legs threatening to give out on each step, his heart sinking with every turn.

He reached his destination all too soon, yet was painfully aware that too much time had already passed. Gently, he nudged the door open; seeing his baby sister sleeping peacefully in her room, knowing it might be the last time she would rest like this in her bed for some time, his eyes teared up and his lip started to tremble. He swallowed the lump in his throat, set down the light that only he could see by, and shut the door.

"_Lumos," _he murmured. Her face glowed even more beautifully by the light of his wand. Her innocence made him want to sob even more . . But he was pressed for time, and he had to speak to her. It was the only way.

"Ginny," her brother whispered hoarsely, his throat dry. He shook her shoulder and urged, "Ginny, wake up."

Startled from a deep slumber, she sat bolt upright in her narrow bed, shocked to see a man sitting beside her. She blinked her eyes to clear them. Surely, this wasn't—?

"Percy?" she said, astonished. "Percy, what are you doing here?" She reached out to hug him; he returned it, but with less enthusiasm than she. Always the serious type, he was never one to hug her tightly, like Charlie or the twins.

"Shhh." He looked around nervously then asked her, "How are you, Ginny?"

She shuddered as she yawned. "Pretty good, Perce. And you?"

"Not bad. Sorry I missed the family's celebration for you after you finished at Hogwarts, but I'd been traveling a lot – you know, with Fudge for work. How did you do on your NEWTS?"

"Great. Believe me, I'm glad _that's_ all done with. But Percy – why did you come back, just now, in the middle of the bloody night?" Then she gasped, "Do Mum and Dad know you're here?"

His eyes darted about the room. "No! No, and please don't tell them. I want to surprise them. In the morning."

His lips parted into a smile. "Look at you; little tiny Ginny, all grown up. You look great. Have you got a boyfriend? Because there are some nice young lads down at the ministry I could introduce you to."

She shook her head as she laughed softly to herself. "No. And no, thank you."

Ginny could sense that his manner was stiffer than usual. Was he hiding something? She pressed him once more.

"So what's going on? No word for years, and then bam – here you are! What is it? Are you engaged, or moving to the continent? Getting away from Fudge?" she teased, jabbing him with her elbow and winking.

_Damnit, Ginny, don't make this worse than it is! _

He sighed. This was it.

"No, none of the above, actually. I—" He shuddered before continuing. "I've, er, gotten myself into a . . a spot of trouble, to be honest." His heart was his throat. Merlin knew he didn't want to do this, but he had no other choice. Still, he hesitated.

His sister looked at him intently. She could see the fear in his lightly-freckled face, and his prolonged silence did not bode well. Breathing more rapidly, she confessed, "You're scaring me, Percy. What do you mean?"

_Here goes nothing._

"Well . . did you hear about the breakout at Azkaban last week?" His heart was nearly beating out of his chest, he awaited her reaction.

"Sure, who didn't?" was her immediate response. "Have you been helping the Aurors round up the prisoners and the people who pulled it off?"

"Ginny, I . . I don't know how to say this . . . but I was . . _coerced_—" He began then stopped. "No, I-I was, er, forced to, er, well . . I was – sort of on _their_ side."

"What!" she hissed. "What the hell were you thinking? How _could_ you? You know what those men are – those women – they . . they're monsters! They're not human; they have no compassion. So many have died at their hands . . Harry's parents, Sirius Black—"

"I know, I know; it – it was stupid of me."

"Oh, Percy, why?" she said, her eyes welling with tears.

"Look, I didn't _want_ to. They – they _made_ me. And now I—" He stopped and instinctively rubbed the still-tender flesh on his forearm, a painful reminder of whom he belonged to – who owned him completely. The action was not lost on his sister.

"Don't tell me you're – they d-didn't . . _recruit_ you, did they?" Ginny murmured fearfully. Seeing the guilty, remorseful look on his face, she recoiled, partly in fear, partly in revulsion.

She felt like her heart was caving in. This was her _brother_, for Merlin's sake! The smart one – the sensible, practical one! Had the world gone mad? It took all she had not to reach out and strangle him. But she couldn't refrain her hand from slapping him as hard as it could.

Percy grabbed her arms, forcing them to her side, and begged desperately, "Ginny, please don't hate me. They forced me to. They said they would kill me, you, _all_ of us, if I didn't. Look, I know we've had our differences these past few years, but I still love every member of this family. So you tell me, what other choice did I have?"

"You could have fought – you could have told them to go to hell!" she practically shouted, becoming even more hysterical. "Where's your Gryffindor bravery?"

He cast a mild Calming Charm on her to quiet her down. "Now, Ginny. Stay with me here." He paused for several seconds. "That's not the worst of it. Not by half." He swallowed nervously.

"There's more?" she squeaked. "My brother's a Death Eater. What could be worse than that?"

This was the part he had been dreading the most. The necessary evil. The _true_ reason for his visit.

"Mr. Malfoy – Lucius – told me that he gave you a diary when you were very young, perhaps a first-year at Hogwarts. Do you remember this diary?"

Releasing a hollow laugh, his sister hung her head. "Of course, I do. How could I forget it? It nearly killed my best friend and Colin Creevey, one of the boys I dated at school this past year. Having that bloody book . . _using_ it . . . was a hellish nightmare."

"What do you mean, Ginny?"

Even the Calming Charm couldn't stop her from raising her voice or tears from streaming down her cheeks. "It's how You-Know-Who opened the Chamber of Secrets, you git! Through _me!_ And that fucking diary!"

Percy cleared his throat and said awkwardly, "I see. Yes, that – that makes sense."

"What does?" she asked, casting him a nervous glance from the corner of one eye. He was really starting to frighten her.

Her brother sighed, "Why he wants to see you. That he is . . interested in you. He finds you fascinating." Pointing a slender finger at her, he continued, "_You_ know something of a dark art he doesn't, and he intends to find out whatever he can. He just wants to ask you a few questions, that's all."

In little more than a whisper, she said, "You mean . . You-Know-Who?"

Staring at the faint glow his wand was emitting, he nodded his head absently. A voice that sounded nothing like his own murmured, "Yes, Ginny. Get dressed; we're leaving now."

"Oh, no! I'm not going anywhere with you!" she insisted as she leapt from her bed.

He lunged out for her and pleaded, "You _have_ to! Our family's safety depends on it—"

But Ginny wasn't buying it; she jumped out of his reach and grasped her own wand from her nightstand, training it on him. "More like you want to further your career as a Death Eater! _Expelliarmus!_" Slightly disoriented from sleep and the effects of the Calming Charm, her aim was wobbly; she missed him completely.

He stunned her easily. She collapsed to the floor.

"_Mobilicorpus."_

The spell lifted her up. She floated gently above the bedroom floor. Stopping to catch his breath, Percy looked at his sister. She almost looked dead, the way her head was slumped over and her ginger-colored hair drooped across her face. Percy exhaled heavily then cleared his throat and packed a few essentials for her journey.

He bit his lip and cast one last longing glance around the room. _"Nox,"_ he whispered to extinguish his wand and stepped out into the hallway. Using another Silencing Charm to muffle his footsteps, he picked up the Hand of Glory; following its light, he went back downstairs, guiding Ginny as she drifted in front of him.

On reaching the kitchen, he placed a carefully-drafted note, written in what looked like Ginny's own handwriting, on the table for Molly and Arthur. It said that she'd had to leave suddenly on an unexpected business trip and that she would be gone for about a month. Percy reasoned that would buy him a few weeks to come up with something better, or to at least pretend he was looking for her.

He left the house for what he knew would probably be the very last time. Muttering _"Obliviate,"_ he was removed from her memory of this – just so she wouldn't hate him forever. He couldn't bear that. Hoisting her over one shoulder, his arms wrapped tightly around her, he Apparated back to the gates outside of Malfoy Manor. Summoning his strength to do the most difficult thing he had ever done, even more excruciating than taking the painful, grisly mark, he whispered the password and went inside.

* * *

"Weasley, you're back!" shouted an excited, boyish voice. 

Percy stifled a groan and regarded the young wizard before him with a respectful nod of his head. Truth be told, he hated the little prick – but when he joined with Voldemort, he knew that the occasional brown-nosing would be a part of his role. Fortunately, he excelled at that.

The arrogant man before him smirked then went on exuberantly. "I see you've brought my bride – well done! And already in her night clothes, too. Saves me the trouble." He laughed as he rubbed his hands together, imagining the many ways he would ravage the young lady who was presently slumped over the thin, red-haired man's shoulder.

To say that the younger wizard was somewhat distracted by the pretty witch would be putting it mildly. He could clearly see the outline of her knickers through her pajamas; it made his mouth water and the blood rush to his groin. Still, he resisted the temptation to reach out and give her pert bottom a good, firm squeeze, while Percy fought the temptation to vomit.

Draco Malfoy was no less of an arse than he had been back when Percy was Head Boy. But he was constantly in Voldemort's favor, especially since he had orchestrated the recent successful breakout at Azkaban. Many of the Dark Lord's most loyal subjects were now returned to him, all thanks to the daring work of the younger Mr. Malfoy. Anything he wanted, his master had said. And he had chosen as his reward a wife – a pureblood witch whose fruit was ripe, ready to be plucked but not yet tasted, eager to fulfill her wifely duties and bear his children. Eventually, he found he couldn't help himself; he reached out his fingers and ran them down the back of her thigh, a twisted smile on his face.

"Look at her; damn, she's getting me so hot and doesn't even know it—"

Annoyed, Percy interrupted, "Excuse me, sir. Where shall I . . where shall I put her?"

Never taking his eyes or hand off of Ginny's shapely backside, Draco called for the one of the house-elves who often attended to his mother. "Pasha!" The little elf, ever efficient and alert for his command, was there a split-second later.

"Yes, sir? What does sir be wanting of Pasha?" she asked with a low bow.

He began firing off commands. "Get Miss Weasley in her wedding dress and prepare her for the ceremony. And don't forget to blindfold her. Then get everyone who needs to be there in my father's old study within the next 30 minutes. And make sure Snape brings the love potion."

The spry, little servant, anxious to please, nodded respectfully and promptly saw to her duties.

Smiling to himself on such a brilliant conquest, Draco clapped his hands together and released a sigh of deep satisfaction. "Yes, this will be a very enjoyable night, indeed. One I won't soon forget, considering I'll be reliving it until I'm sick of the sight of her, and she meets with an unfortunate . . _accident!_" He laughed as he sauntered down the hallway toward his private quarters to change into his finest dress robes.

Percy stared after him. He had never felt so hollow.

* * *

Locked away in his room to prepare for his wedding, Draco exhaled heavily and rubbed his tired eyes. His head was swimming. Being in the Dark Lord's favor wasn't all sunshine and rainbows. In all honesty, he hated it. 

But if the master, or anyone, ever found out that the young Death Eater wasn't what he pretended to be, it would be the end of him and everyone he loved, including the woman he was about to marry.

Draco Malfoy could no more avoid his destiny of following in his father's footsteps anymore than he could defeat Voldemort alone. Yet it was, as Dumbledore had said to him many times, one's choices that mattered. He didn't choose this life; he was born into it. It chose _him_.

However, he did choose Ginny, and he desperately wanted to have her in his life. _She_ could help him. She knew what it was like; she had, in fact, been where he was right now – used, manipulated, and backed into a corner, with no possible way out. Surely, she would understand and forgive him for this rash act, once she had heard it from his own lips. As his wife, she would help him get through it all, until it was over.

Certain that this one girl would be his salvation, Draco silently prayed to all the gods in the universe that she would find him appealing and perhaps would still want him. After all, they _would_ get married, just as they had discussed secretly at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place the summer before. True, the circumstances were not what he had hoped for, but at least they would be husband and wife.

Meanwhile, the nervous groom prepared for the inevitable. He put on a crisp, white shirt and stepped into a pair of neatly-pressed black trousers. As soon as he had slipped into his finest dress robes – the ones that cost more gold than his seventh-year school books had – there was a soft rap on the door that made him jump.

"Sir? It is time," Pasha said. "Please to come out, sir. Your bride is ready."

Draco's heart was in his throat; for a moment, he wondered whether he could he pull this off. If he could, it would be the world's greatest hoax – the hoax that Fred and George Weasley will only _wish_ they could have done.

Feeling the pressure, he snapped at her. "I'll be out in a few minutes!"

"Yes, sir." He could almost hear the smile in her voice, and it made him wince.

Did Pasha . . _know?_ Was he that obvious?

_Nonsense._

Composing himself, he looked back at the icy-gray eyes in the mirror. "You can do this. You can do anything you put your mind to. You beat Granger in the NEWT exams; you can do anything." A sliver of worry briefly slipped into his mind. He pointed at his reflection, as if daring it to disagree, then repeated confidently, _"Anything."__

* * *

_

The Weasley-Malfoy wedding was to be held in Lucius's old study. The room was ideal for meetings and small, quiet weddings – especially those that one didn't want the Daily Prophet to get wind of and broadcast. When Draco joined Severus Snape, his best man, the Potions Master turned to him and held out his hand. Within his spindly fingers was a slender bottle about three inches tall. It was filled with a deep purple viscous liquid. 

"This one never fails; she'll _adore_ you," he said with a smirk.

The groom's pale eyes narrowed slightly as he hissed, "And the other?"

Raising an eyebrow, Snape reached into the pocket of his dress robes. "Why I should stick my neck out for you," he said as he handed his former protégé a second bottle, "is quite beyond my capacity." This one was half-full, and its contents were green and much thinner.

"Remember," Severus cautioned, "don't use it for at _least_ a half-hour after the first one. But it must be taken within four hours, and only after the marriage has been consummated; ignore these warnings, and the consequences will be dire. And I daresay, especially for you."

Draco nodded in understanding. "Thank you," he whispered as he discretely tucked both bottles deep in the pocket of his trousers. The two men stepped inside the room.

Soon, Lucius and Narcissa arrived, as well as a minister to officiate. Lord Voldemort came up behind them, smiling broadly, and said, "So, Malfoy, you have chosen a bride? A pureblood, no doubt?"

"Of course. She's quite lovely, too. I can't wait to have my way with her tonight . . " His lip curled into a wicked smile as he withdrew the bottle of purple potion from his pocket.

"And where is this ravishing beauty?" Lucius asked his son impatiently.

Just then, Percy Weasley strode into the room, his face more pale than ever. His sister's hand was wrapped inside the crook of his arm. "Sir, I present my sister, Ginevra Molly Weasley." When everyone else turned to look, her brother barely bothered to conceal his self-loathing.

The bride wore exquisite, flowing dress robes made of a creamy ivory that flattered her complexion and hair. Shimmering beads graced the edges of the gossamer veil, and the narrow waistline was adorned with elaborate lace flowers. Even Narcissa was impressed. A bit of cleavage peeked out of the top of her bodice; Lucius raised his eyebrows and grinned approvingly. Underneath her veil, the young witch wore a blindfold that matched the fabric of her robes. From what the onlookers could see of her face, she was eerily calm; for a woman who was about to marry a man whom she despised deeply, she was holding up quite well.

Draco looked at Percy and silently indicated that the wedding should proceed. Squeezing his sister's hand in reassurance, he winced slightly and almost begged of him, "Please look after her, and she will honor you in all things." Her brother whispered something in her ear, and she gave an almost imperceptible nod. Then she released her hold on his arm and stepped forward blindly into an unknown future.

Unseen hands grasped hers gently yet firmly. Draco held the bottle of purple liquid, pulled the stopper, and careful not to spill a single drop, brought it to her lips. He tipped her head back, ensuring she swallowed all of it.

After waiting for what felt like at least an hour, he slowly removed her blindfold and held her head soothingly by the temples. Her eyes remained shut.

"Look at me, Ginevra," he commanded. She did. Love filled her eyes; her cheeks glowed radiantly, and her smile lit up the room.

_She's breathtaking_, the groom thought as he gazed into her deep brown eyes. The ceremony began; still under the influence of a Calming Charm, she stared out placidly through the veil and proceeded to marry the son of the man who had given her that horrid diary. At that moment, she saw no reason to do otherwise.

Though they were livid on the inside, Draco's mother and father never let it show. They could do nothing but stand by and watch him take a . . a _Weasley_ as his wife. 'What of Malfoy pride?' Lucius had said to his own wife. True, the girl was a pureblood, and as Molly's daughter, she was certainly fertile – but could he have made a _worse_ choice? They had always wanted him to marry Pansy Parkinson.

But they held their tongues. This was their son's decision, and Voldemort supported it. 'Anything he wants', their master had said. Frankly, his parents considered themselves lucky that he hadn't requested both of their heads, or that he ask that they be removed from Lucius's ancestral home. Their son had risen to power so quickly; having sprung so many Death Eaters from Azkaban, there was nothing the Dark Lord would deny him.

The ceremony itself lasted maybe five or six minutes. Before either the bride or the groom had time to fully contemplate what was happening, they were in each others' arms and sharing a hotly passionate kiss. When they finally released one another, Voldemort made it clear that he was quite pleased with this alliance. The Weasleys' influence within the Ministry of Magic was growing, and this marriage meant that he would now have two of them in his corner.

Giving the groom a congratulatory pat on the back, he whispered, "I know your parents think this is a disaster. But don't worry about them; Ginevera will make an excellent wife, if you keep her in line."

Forgoing a formal reception, the newlyweds ascended the stairs to begin their seven-day honeymoon – during which time, neither of them planned to resurface to the outside world. Once they were in his room and a Silencing Charm was cast, he pointed his wand to her and said _"Finite Incatatum,"_ to remove the Calming Charm.

Taking her hands in his, he began cautiously, "Ginny, can you forgive me?"

"_Forgive_ you? Of all the unmitigated, pig-headed . . the _audacity!_ You have my older brother come and take me from my room, in the middle of the night, just so you and I could get married? And me, so fucked up on spells and potions that I barely remember any of it! This isn't what we planned, Draco – it wasn't supposed to happen like that. Why—"

"I _had_ to," he broke in. "Voldemort was so proud of my role in that Azkaban fiasco that he offered me a 'reward', and he wouldn't take no for an answer. He was talking with my parents, who insisted it was high time I got married, and he agreed. He said I could have anyone I wanted; Mother and Father were pressing for Pansy Parkinson."

She recoiled at the idea of Pansy as his bride. He smirked, confirming, "That's right. Pug-faced Parkinson. She would have been here in a few days, if _you_ weren't summoned. And then where would either of us be?" His face was red and his breathing rapid; still, he managed to keep from shouting at her.

The new Mrs. Malfoy released a sigh. "And that thick potion you gave me – what was that?"

"A very strong love potion. The Dark Lord suggested it – considered it a gift, actually. Naturally, he doesn't know that you and I already care for each other like we do . . so it wouldn't have had any lasting effects, anyway. Nothing further than your amorous behavior at the wedding." Giving her a smug look, he added, "I think they bought it."

She glared at him but said nothing. He stretched his fingers out and touched her face softly; then reaching inside his pocket, he remarked with a light chuckle, "What really matters, my dear . . is _this._" He held on tightly to a nondescript bottle with a thin, dark green liquid inside.

Eyeing it intently, she whispered, "What is it?"

"The antidote for the love potion. Because of the feelings you already have for me, the other potion is too strong and must be diluted. This second potion must be taken within four hours of the first. But not until _after_ the marriage is consummated."

"That's convenient," she scoffed.

He rolled his eyes. "Perhaps, but it's the truth. If the instructions are not followed exactly, the effects are the original potion are permanent. Eventually, you would become obsessed with me – so insanely jealous, you'd probably kill another woman just for looking at me."

She frowned at him in disbelief. But when he looked her in the eye and said, "Trust me, I _know_ about these things; just look who my father is," she knew he was quite serious.

"But what . . what if I said I didn't love you?" she suggested.

Draco shook his head. With a soft laugh, he said, "Won't work, because you do. I can see it in your eyes."

Realizing the only option she had was to trust him – she _did_ love him, and for the most part, she trusted him. Still, this all sounded so . . patently absurd!

_Oh, what the hell._

"You, Mr. Malfoy, are going to get it now." He wasn't sure if that was a threat or a promise, although he hoped for the latter. When she undid her fancy wedding robes and let them fall to the floor in one hurried swoop, he got his answer – and his wish.

She faced him, wearing nothing but her knickers and her bra, both of which he could just see through. When she raised one eyebrow, she gave him a smirk that was so naughty, so wickedly sexy, that he could feel the raw insinuation as it sent a thrill down to his toes. Ginny stepped closer to him, so close that almost no distance remained, then ran her fingers through his soft, feathery platinum locks and started to nibble on his neck. When she reached that . . that _one_ spot on his neck, she bit down and sucked, lightly at first and then with more force, just the way he liked it. Nudging her breasts against him, she moved so that her erect nipples stroked across his chest. He moaned in response as he started to harden. He removed her bra and began caressing her soft breasts.

Pressing even closer to him, she reached for his bum and squeezed it tightly. Her touch was pure heaven; he was starting to become dizzy from the sensations as his skin tingled all over.

At last, at long, sweet last, she boldly slid her hand inside his trousers and opened his boxers, releasing him. When she gently took him into her warm hand, Draco sighed and closed his eyes in ecstasy. He turned and kissed her ginger hair tenderly, urging her to go on, fairly certain he would die if she continued this much longer, but positive he would die if she stopped. His lips against her hair, he couldn't help but release a quivering groan.

The warmth of his breath made her shudder. Was it because she was almost naked and the room was just a tad chilly? Or was she as incredibly horny as her husband obviously was? She could feel the heat emitting from his body, and it was intense.

Lifting her chin, he gazed longingly into her smoldering eyes. Her pupils were dark and her pale skin flushed. He kissed her and gently probed her mouth with his tongue. As he did, he placed his hand on her stomach and gradually slipped a wandering finger inside the front of her knickers. Her skin felt so hot. A primal sound, almost like a wolf growling, escaped her lips, and passion overtook her.

Without hesitation or shyness, she ripped the rest of his clothes off his body then pushed him forcefully onto the bed and straddled him. Both lovers seeking to fulfill a deep, primal urge, they were assured they would meet the first requirement of the second potion in plenty of time.

* * *

In the wee hours of the morning, the elves were already up and scurrying about. Each one was doing his or her part of the upkeep of the manor: from marinating meats and slicing vegetables for the day's meals to polishing the silver to dusting the frames of the numerous portraits. 

Although the impromptu wedding had taken place after midnight, Pasha did not shirk in her early morning duties. One of these was remove the laundry, all of it but the linens, from all the bedrooms as quietly and discretely as possible. The elf enjoyed this task; she had made rather a game of it, challenging herself to see if she could slip in and withdraw the items without causing the occupants to stir.

She purposely visited Draco's bedroom last, wanting to give him and his bride as much time as possible to rest from their long night of indulging in carnal pleasures. Should she accidentally invade their privacy, which would not only embarrass herself and them . . well, Pasha shuddered at the thought. Better elves than she had received clothes for committing such a faux pas.

She stood just outside their room, listening very carefully, judging whether it was safe to go in. When she decided that they must both be asleep, she poised her fingers, ready to _"Snap!"_ so she could enter the bridal chamber. Suddenly, a smoky voice called her name out of the darkened hallway.

"Pasha."

The startled elf nearly jumped out of her skin. Her quiet game was over, for the moment. She just looked up and stared, and then finally said politely, "Good morning, does Mistress require something of Pasha?"

The witch approached her threateningly. "Yes, Mistress requires something. I know that Severus gave your young master a potion last night before his wedding."

"Y-yes, Mistress. Naturally. A love potion," the elf volunteered as she bowed her head.

"Not that one, you fool. There was a second one; I want to know what was in _that_ one!"

Pasha winced, her eyes wide with fear as she shook her head rapidly. "Pasha knows nothing of a second potion. Nothing!" she insisted.

The woman towering over her moved forward then paced back and forth in front of her. She scoffed, "I think you do. And what I need from is you is to give both bottles to me, even if they're empty."

"But Mistress – if they is empty, then why does you need them?"

"So I can find out what was _in_ them, you ninny," she hissed. Pacing again, she growled to herself, "I wasn't in Advanced Potions for nothing, you know!"

The witch stopped and looked at her predatorily, causing the servant to shudder. Then she threatened her quietly, "If you don't deliver, then I will personally see to it that your master gives you _clothes._ And then you'll have to leave the manor and make it on your own. Imagine – a failed house-elf whose family has served one house for generations? And who would take you in? Nobody!"

Tears welled up in Pasha's frightened eyes. She fell to her knees and begged, "Please, Mistress, no – that won't be necessary; Pasha will get them. Yes, Pasha will! Please . . please, to wait here, Mistress!"

With an almost silent 'pop', the elf was gone. She returned a minute later holding a few articles of clothing with her knobby fingers. Fiercely waving a pair of men's black dress trousers, she cried, "Pasha has them, Mistress – they is in one of the pockets of—"

"Give me those!" the scheming witch snapped, yanking the trousers out of her hand so forcefully that the poor servant nearly dropped everything else. Before any of the other clothes could touch the ground, she waved her hands and soon had everything whisked back up in her arms.

"Where is it? Where _is_ it?" the woman asked desperately. "I know it's here . . wait!" Suddenly, she gasped. "There you are, my little treasure." She pulled out the first empty potions bottle. Her heart was racing. Intent on finding its mate, she reached back inside the pocket; a twisted smile crossed her lips when she found it. "Yes, you too – come here, now."

She released the trousers, giving them a swift toss down the hallway; Pasha dove for them, careful to avoid their touching the floor. The other items, meanwhile, remained frozen in mid-air where she had left them.

Ignoring her, the witch took a moment to gaze at the bottles, her eyes glowing hungrily. With a self-satisfied smirk that did not flatter her face, she turned to leave, chuckling to herself as she walked away.

The elf looked down at the precious clothes in her arms and pressed them to smooth out the wrinkles. She felt a sting of guilt, but she felt certain she had done the right thing. "Serving one's family – that's the most important thing," she said to the empty hallway as she went on to continue her duties.

* * *

The couple barely emerged from their room for almost a week. Various house-elves had been at their beck and call, bringing in every meal and drink they requested, every game and book, fresh sheets and towels, and spoiling them lavishly. As the servants had little or no money, this was their way of congratulating the bride and groom. 

On the sixth day after the wedding, the skies were sunny. As the shadows started to lengthen outside, Ginny and Draco lay on their bed, doing what most newlyweds do when they aren't making hot, passionate love: talking, relaxing, and enjoying each other's company.

Still, somewhere in the back of his mind, Draco knew it was probably their last evening alone together before he was called back to the Dark Lord's side. His room had become their private sanctuary, their cocoon from the outside world, if only for a while. The air was slightly tense. He reflected in silence for a moment or two, then stroking his wife's long, auburn tresses, he said, "Happy?"

"Mmmm, ecstatic," she replied with a grin.

He clasped her fingers in his and smiled at her warmly. His eyes glowed with ardor. Suddenly, he sat up beside her and asked in a serious tone, "Are you sorry we didn't have a _real_ wedding? I mean that we – rushed things the way we did?"

"No." She caressed his face with a tenderness he had not felt in many years. His eyes fell shut as he melted into her touch.

Their quiet moment was interrupted by an insistent tapping at the window. Draco looked up and saw that it was a late-arriving owl, impatiently begging admittance. He jumped up and opened the window to let it in.

The bird flapped its wings indignantly and dropped the note it was carrying on the nightstand. Then it flew off, without so much as waiting two seconds for some form of payment or even a 'thank you'. Ginny bristled at the owl's abrupt delivery. "How rude!" she remarked at the window as she pulled it to.

She sat beside her husband on the edge of the bed, but he took no notice. Engrossed by the envelope, he examined it carefully. The only visible signs on the front were the names _Mr. & Mrs. D. Malfoy_; the back was blank, except for a dab of green sealing wax that was devoid of marks or initials. Once he had performed a few standard spells to check for duplicity or hidden danger, he broke the seal. Ginny leaned in closer to get a better look.

The handwriting on the note within was unrecognizable. They scanned the text rapidly . .

_Mr. & Mrs. M,_

_I know what you did and what you're trying to hide. If you and your wife_

_don't want your dirty little secret to accidentally slip out over breakfast _

_tomorrow, you would both be wise to meet me tonight under the tree by the _

_stables at 12:00._

_An Old Friend_

Ginny looked up at her husband. The color had vanished from his already-pallid cheeks, and the apprehension in his eyes scared her. Seeing her shudder, he tried to put on a brave face but failed miserably. She herself was close to tears. He knew he would need her strength, her courage . . .

Trying to sound nonchalant, as if the letter had had no effect on him, he sneered, "Probably just an empty threat from a jealous rival." Then he scoffed, "What _is_ Potter doing these days, anyway?"

"Draco," she said sternly, "this is serious." She looked at the letter once more, and after scrutinizing it closely, asked him, "Who do you think sent it?"

With so many possibilities and so little to go on, the couple was baffled. Draco furrowed his brow in concentration and finally said with a shrug, "I don't know; my father?"

"But if he did know about you, about us . . would he even _warn_ you?"

"Hmmph – you're right. I'm sure he'd hand me over without a word, in shackles and chains, if he could regain some of the status he had before he went to Azkaban," he said cynically.

Ginny sighed and shook her head. "Well, I guess the fact is that no matter who sent it, we don't really have much choice. We're just going to have to go." Trying to think more positively, she said, "But there _are_ two of us and, hopefully, only one of him – so maybe the odds are in our favor."

"Yeah, and you can definitely throw a mean Bat Bogey hex." He'd never forgotten that, and she laughed in spite of herself. "I'm glad I'm on _your_ side this time."

Smiling tightly, Ginny latched onto his hand as if clinging to it for life; she squeezed it and pressed it to her face. She nodded and said, "I guess we do have the best defense – each other."

* * *

Later that same evening in another corner of Malfoy Manor, Percy was having yet another sleepless night. He considered taking a Dreamless Sleep potion, but it always made him feel nauseous the next day, so he avoided it at all costs. After tossing and turning until nearly midnight, he was still wide-awake. 

He knew why he couldn't sleep.

Wracked by guilt, he borrowed his roommate's invisibility cloak once more and slipped out into the halls to pursue his latest pastime: sneaking about to check up on his sister.

He quietly moved along the path he had recently become so familiar with; the distance seemed to grow shorter with each passing night. Soon, the door to Draco Malfoy's room was visible. Percy felt the rage boil inside him as he tried not to imagine what atrocities must have befallen his innocent little sister since becoming that . . _monster's_ wife. He didn't want her to become hardened or bitter, or to get that sad, faraway look he sometimes saw in Narcissa's eyes when she thought no one was looking . . .

He jumped when he heard a young woman's voice hiss, "You're not putting a Disillusionment Charm on me, and that's final!"

Oddly, it sounded rather like Ginny. Percy wondered silently, hopefully, _Is she – could she be leaving? Is this nightmare finally ending?_

A man's voice responded, "Oh yes, I am. You think I'm going to let you go out there without any protection?"

Edging closer, Percy blinked and did a double-take; was that really his sister and her new husband – or as he liked to call him, Evil Incarnate? It didn't make sense.

_But that's impossible. Why would he help her try to escape?_

Draco said to her, "I don't want you getting hurt, and I told you I haven't had my invisibility cloak since that twat Goyle lost it a month ago."

Percy's skin started to crawl. _Goyle? He told me this cloak was a gift from his grandfather for finishing Hogwarts. Then it really belongs to . . ._

His stomach sank a little as he listened closely from beneath the borrowed – apparently, _stolen_ – cloak, barely daring to breathe.

"But the note said that _both_ of us were to come," she said. "If only you show up—"

"Look, we've been through this a hundred times. It'll only be temporary, in case things look dodgy. Now, come here."

She started to turn away, and he grabbed onto the tops of her shoulders.

"Ginny, when I can see who it is, and once I'm relatively sure you'll be safe, I'll remove the Charm. But until then, please, don't make a sound." He stroked her cheek and said tenderly, "I love you, and I won't risk anything happening to you."

"I love you, too," she replied softly.

Percy was stunned. All he could think of was how . . unbelievable this was. They actually _loved_ each other? Or was it just the love potion talking?

_But Malfoy didn't take one. So is it true?_

With a muttered incantation, Ginny vanished into her surroundings. Malfoy swung a light-weight cloak over his shoulders and pulled the hood over his wispy, platinum hair. Reaching behind him, he grabbed onto what must have been Ginny's hand and whispered, _"Careful,"_ as he turned and ran down the stairs. It looked like they were heading for the kitchen and toward the back door.

Death Eater or no, Percy knew that keeping his sister safe from harm was his only hope of redemption. He felt compelled to follow them, but it wasn't as easy as it sounded. The cloak wasn't designed for someone as tall as him, so he had to be careful that his feet didn't show or that he didn't trip himself along the way.

Several yards before they got to the stables, Draco let go of Ginny's hand and motioned for her to stay put. He walked out from under the trees and into the moonlight; a few seconds later, a short, cloaked figure stepped out from the darkness to meet him, wand at the ready, the end of it lit.

At first, Draco couldn't determine who it was. He squinted his eyes to adjust to the dim light. "Who . . ?" he began.

"Who, indeed?" the person whispered. "Who would request a meeting with you and your lovely new bride – who, sadly for you, is not here."

Owing to a slight rise in the volume of her voice and a fortuitous glimpse of her profile when she turned, he vaguely recognized her. "P-Pansy?" he stammered. "Is that you?"

She chuckled at him. "Got it in one, luv. But I don't see your wife. Gods, what _is_ it with wizards that they can't follow simple instructions?"

"Why are you here, Pansy?"

Folding her arms in front of her, she sniffed, "You are dense, aren't you? I already told you: I _know!_"

His mind was racing, trying to figure out exactly what she did know. Did she know about his role in the Order, and Snape's as well, or the truth about his marriage? Could that be it? That it wasn't merely one of convenience, or for his lust for a witch he could never have, but that he and Ginny were really in love, and that her feelings had nothing to do with a love potion . . .

_If she knows that, then Merlin knows what else she knows, _he thought nervously. _But how the hell did she find out?_

"I don't know what you're talking about, Pansy," he finally replied, as cool as ever.

"I know what that potion was. And I don't mean the love potion; I'm talking about the one she took _after_ it. I know what it does, and it can only mean one thing: you love the little red-haired slag."

Denial was always the best course.

"What! Me – love _her?_ Of course not! I assure you this marriage is only temporary to begin with. Once I've gotten all I can out of her family and their ministry connections . . well, let's just say that she won't be around too much longer."

"Do you think I'm stupid, Draco?" she scoffed contemptuously. "I had the remnants from the bottle tested. She took a love potion _and_ an antidote, and that must mean she loves you. And you are obviously in love with her – which explains why she isn't _here_, even though my note plainly said that both of you were to come."

He fidgeted slightly and attempted to reach for his wand, hoping to catch her off-guard.

Seeing him flinch, she shouted, _"Expelliarmus!"_ and snatched his wand in mid-air as it sailed toward her. After a pause, she released a shuddering breath and said to him, "Remember this, Draco: Marrying for love is _always_ a mistake."

"Why do you care anyway?" he hissed.

Pansy was seething by then. Still, she made a weak attempt at keeping her emotions in check. Enunciating each word as carefully as if she were traveling by Floo, she ground her teeth and said angrily, "We. Had. An. Agreement."

"We _what?_ What 'agreement'?"

Her dark eyes narrowed. As it slowly dawned on him what she was implying, his mouth fell open. "Oh, I see. But you and I had no agreement to get married."

"Not you and me; your parents, and mine." She clicked her tongue and threw her hands in the air in disgust. "They all wanted you to marry _me!_ **I** was your intended!"

"What?" he snorted. "Since when?"

"Since before we were out of nappies! Surely, your parents must have mentioned it, once or twice." Then stomping her foot like a spoiled child, she whined, "But now . . _now_ you've done it! You married that – where _is_ she? I'll kill her!"

Fuming, she started firing hexes randomly, on the off-chance that Ginny really was there and that one of them would hit her. _"Stupefy!"_ she yelled once, then again, and again, pointing her wand here and there. Eventually, one of them hit, knocking her victim down with a dull 'thud'.

Unarmed and alone, Draco decided to try and appease the crazed, raven-haired witch. Raising his hands in surrender, he said resignedly, "All right, all right. You win! I'll have it annulled tomorrow, like it never happened." She smiled at him victoriously. "On one condition," he added.

Purring with admiration, she cooed, "Ooh, now _that's_ more like the Draco I know and love. Name your price."

"I want to know how you found out."

After a moment's hesitation, she agreed. "All right. Have you ever noticed the painting outside of your father's study? The one of the lovely maiden who's practically bursting out of the bodice of her low-cut dress?"

Astounded, he asked, "You mean to say that one of our own _portraits_ told you?"

"No, just listen. Across the hall from that painting is a powder-blue armchair. It once belonged to my mother's uncle, Bartholomew Bulstrode, whom I happened to be visiting a few days ago. He was a professor at Hogwarts, you know, back in his day; your father was one of his favorite pupils. The old man's over 100 years old now and lives alone, other than a handful of servants and house-elves."

Growing impatient, Draco sneered, "I hope there is some point to all of this."

She glowered at him. "This chair has a spell on it that allows my Great Uncle Bartholomew to see whatever is in front of it. He gave that chair to your father as a wedding gift. He hand-delivered it and instructed the servants that it was to be set it in that particular spot and not to be moved until his death. Lucius saw no reason not to, so he agreed.

"And there it has stayed, for more than 20 years – never being moved, rarely even used, and only occasionally dusted . . . all so a horny, old man could get his jollies from watching the buxom young lady in the painting prance about and adjust her cleavage now and then. She never ages, never disagrees with him – she even winks sometimes. Gets the old fellow as hard as he can manage these days," she finished, laughing softly to herself.

"And what do your elderly uncle's sick sexual fantasies have to do with anything?"

She explained, "Well, sometimes he sees things people don't mean for him to. Such things as the surreptitious handing off of – oh, shall we say, _questionable_ potions, between the Dark Lord's chief Potion Master and one of his former students." She raised an eyebrow as if daring him to contradict her.

Draco's face paled; he struggled to maintain his confident air but couldn't come up with a biting remark to say in response.

Pansy shook her head as she scorned him, "Don't even think about denying it, Draco Malfoy. You're scamming someone, all right. And it's not your wife. Your parents, not to mention, your Master, will be very disappointed to learn that it's _them_. And as for that piece of rubbish you married—"

They heard a stifled roar followed by the words, "Shut up, you bitch!"

An invisible fist struck Pansy on the chin, knocking her head to one side. _"Expelliarmus!"_ the attacker yelled, and her wand flew out of her hand.

"What the hell!" she cried. Ignoring the pain in her jaw, she lunged, trying to retrieve her wand from the unseen thief. For a split-second, she thought she saw a man's shoe on the ground in front of her, but then it vanished. She quickly realized what was going on: one of Draco's friends was helping him, probably Snape.

"I know you're underneath that invisibility cloak, Severus! You can _forget_ defending him; in fact, since your recent behavior is suspect, too!"

But instead of getting an argument from him, or even a nasty hex, she found herself shoved in between the open stable doors and thrust through the doorway of the nearest stall. The commotion of her banging into the walls, combined with her furious shrieks, startled the sleeping horse inside. She stumbled and fell against its hindquarters, causing the animal to snort in protest at the intrusion. It whinnied loudly and started kicking violently. Pansy screamed; she tried to back away and get outside of the stall, but she lost her balance in the thick layer of hay and toppled to the ground. The frightened horse continued to stamp its hooves recklessly.

It was all over in a few seconds. Knowing that some of the horses were not completely tame and were easily spooked, Draco carefully crept inside the stables. He cautiously shushed the bucking horse, patting its back and neck to calm it down. When he moved to return it to its stall, he looked down at the bloodied ground; the beast had pummeled Pansy's face and head and crushed her chest. She looked horrid. He knelt down and raised her limp arm to feel for a pulse but found none.

He walked outside and called softly, "Ginny, we're safe."

When his wife didn't reply, he felt the panic rising in his chest. For a moment, he'd forgotten she had been Stunned. "Gin, where are you? Are you all right?"

With only the moonlight to guide him, he looked out to see if he could find her, hoping she would at least light the end of her wand. About ten feet away, he heard someone clearing their throat. He wondered if it was Ginny, or maybe it was his secret benefactor? He shivered with hope as he asked, "Who's there?"

His own invisibility cloak slid off to reveal his brother-in-law. Ginny's older brother Percy stood there with a dumbfounded look on his face. He stuttered, "I g-guess that horse . . . tr-trampled Pansy?" Not very articulate, but to the point.

"Apparently," the blond said, barely blinking.

"I-I've never been responsible for – for a death."

Draco smiled wryly. "Welcome to the club, old man. It won't be the last time."

Staring blankly and looking like he would vomit, Percy announced, "I'm sorry, I'm . . I'm just not cut out for this." He paused. "Please take care of my sister," he finally said.

"I will."

Then grabbing onto the magical cloak, he mouthed, _"Sorry,"_ and Apparated away. Merlin only knew where he would go.

Realizing he had just lost a perfectly good invisibility cloak but had gained something much more, Draco said into the nothingness, "That's all right; keep it."

He turned around to search for Ginny. Disillusionment Charms weren't exactly the same as being completely invisible; the person's shape just blended into its surroundings. He lit the end of his wand and looked toward where he had left her earlier. Finding her within ten minutes, he removed the Disillusionment Charm then said, _"Ennervate."_

She sat upright, flew into his arms, and gasped, "Oh, thank Merlin you're all right. What happened?"

He told her as much as he could remember; everything had happened so fast, he was sure he left a few of the details out. When he got to the part about Pansy being killed, her breath caught in her throat.

"Percy?" she choked. "He – _killed_ someone?"

"No, the horse did, so technically . . it was an accident." He thought for a minute or two then decided, "I think I'll transfigure her into a dead rat. I mean, what would be more appropriate?"

But Ginny, unconvinced that this was the best course of action, asked him, "What if her family comes looking for her?"

"We just say we never saw her. You're an expert liar, when called upon." He smirked at her, but she frowned and looked away. He took her chin in his hand and said, "Look, sweetheart, we've got a role to play here. It's our mission. You're married to a member of the Order now. And until _this_ is over, we need to play it as best we can. Do you understand?"

She sighed. "Yes. But what about Percy—"

"Don't worry, he's smart. He'll manage. He's not a big enough problem for the Dark Lord to concern himself with just now. Anyway, he reports to me. But still, why don't we start a rumor, just in case Goyle saw him leave the room tonight?"

"What do you mean?" she asked, giving him a speculative glare.

"Well, if the Dark Lord asks, I'll say that he's left to find Pansy. She arrived here, just like she did, and threatened to kill you – like she did – and your brother went mad. Like he did. We just leave out the part where she actually . . died." Looking at her hopefully, he shrugged and said, "It's perfectly logical, and most of it's true. So what do you say, my love? How's your Occlumency?"

She grinned at him and whispered, "Excellent."

The End

Notes: The line "Why I should stick my neck out for you.." is from Star Wars: A New Hope. C3PO says it to R2D2 after Luke's uncle purchases both droids. And "he excelled at that" is paraphrased from the same movie. If I missed any others, let me know.


End file.
